#And then come back and continue the discussion

[originalitysquared]

one time when I was still a teen on reddit I told some hypothetical discussion forum that I would rather die than be raped. If given the oppurtunity, I would kill myself before being raped.

The redditors gave me a hypothetical family in their replies saying my "children and husband" would want me to come back and would need me.

Insane how suicide is seen as purity culture when staying alive is clearly the puritan stance to have.

@joinsideke is a loser who has never been put in a no-win situation. Imagine considering surviving trauma as an easy decision.

Imagine someone starving to death who wants to die rather than be hungry and this loser comes up and gives them a little food and says "actually, living is better than being dead, so you should go on indefinitely in this torture." Imagine someone in a forced labor camp wanting to die rather than continue working. This loser would tell them to keep working.

This loser is literally saying we should get raped rather than commit suicide because living is more important.

Haven't seen anyone else addressing how the "feminist" preference for being eaten by a bear over meeting a man alone in the woods is in large part about purity culture and terror of rape.

Like, this whole thing is an obvious reference to older tales where the virtuous maiden flees the wicked men and gets eaten by a bear or fell off a cliff, but at least she died a virgin!

I miss where there was at least a feminist contingent that thought that being raped wasn't a fate worse than death.

[dwaekkicidal]

free use with a frustrated minho <3

wc» 1k

cw» fem!reader, free use, rough sex, slightly mean dom min?, some dirty talk, p in v, multiple creampies, oral (both f and m receiving), 1 mention of shower sex, 1 mention of somno

an» take this minho hard thought that i forgot to post earlier this week as a double post bc the chan.in x reader is fucking 2k words and im still not done yet lol... ><

“This literally never happens. Why did this have to happen?? I practiced this dance for fucking HOURS.” You surprisingly miss your boyfriend's indecipherable mumbles and continue to watch your TV.

Minho walked through the front door less than 5 minutes ago and is still sporting his stage outfit and makeup. He plays the part of some sort of lunatic all too well when he’s pacing back and forth and mumbling incoherent curses to himself. And you already tried asking him what was wrong- all you got in return was ignored as he slammed his keys on the kitchen counter and began this weird manic spell.

But all of this is in the past now. You eventually came to learn that he slipped up on stage today; you learned that all that fuss was because he kept making minor blunders during the recording of their MNET performance. And although it was a recorded thing, something videoed multiple times anyways and not seen live, and he wasn’t the center during these mistakes, he was still pissed.

Minho does not make mistakes very often, so he was upset that he even made one today. But the fact that he managed multiple across the many hours they spent in that god-awful building made his blood boil. But! Luckily for him, he has this very convenient agreement with his beautiful, lovely girlfriend who just so happens to be you.

And this agreement is exactly how he stopped dead in his tracks as he came to this “revelation” an hour after he had arrived at home. It’s also how the oversized shirt of his you were wearing got lifted up to your chest. He didn’t even blink towards the food you were cooking on the stove before he shoved your panties down your legs and slid himself along your already wet folds.

“Dirty girl. Wet when I’ve not even touched you.” He landed a playful smack to your ass and gave you no time to react before he slid into your walls, stretching you out almost painfully. You were thankful that you fingered yourself just before he got home, so the stretch was more tolerable than it would have been if he went in dry.

Minho ignored your pleas of “The food!! It’s gonna burn!” and “Give me one second, babe!” Instead, he wrapped one of those veiny hands around your throat and squeezed as he started moving his hips. He started off nicely, giving you slow, deep strokes. But he quickly found a different pace, one more to his liking.

And that pace included fucking your brains out, pounding you into the cold kitchen counter. If it wasn’t for the refreshing cold of the ceramic, you think your cheek would get some sort of “rug” burn. Well… you can’t really think anything, not when his hips slam into yours so intensely that you can feel your ass stinging from each thrust.

Although he holds you in place, one hand on your head and the other on your hip, he still gives you more than enough chances to actually stop him if it’s what you want. It comes out in the form of dirty talk as he goes on about how good of a hole you’re being for him and how he should “freely use” you more often.

It’s more of a hint to the recent kink you’ve been discussing, but it doesn’t go over your head, so you nod as best as you can. And, even though he’s pissed off and needs to fuck you into every surfance he sees, he’s not mean enough to leave you high and dry. So he lets you cum right as he does.

You’re barely catching your breath after the fact before he’s pulling out and admiring your messy form; your cheek still firmly against the kitchen counter even though his hand is gone. He manages to pull out and watch his cum leak from you before another revelation hits him. One that encourages him to help you step out of your panties before pocketing them and shoving himself back into his shorts.

One that also encourages his next comments along with the pat on the ass he gives you after the words have sunk into your mushy brain. “You don’t need these anymore. Keep cooking, I’ll be back.”

But don’t worry your pretty little head about it!! He won’t be gone for very long. In fact, you’re in the middle of setting the table with dinner when his hands return to your body, folding you in half and grabbing a handful of your hair as he immediately slides himself back into your walls.

The only “reward” you get is his groans of happiness as he fucks your brains out again, making sure not to leave out the comments here and there about how, “You’re such a good fucktoy. Letting me fuck you whenever and wherever I want.”

And he’s not done there, oh nooo. He’s still fuming about those slip ups from earlier. Now, at this point can he remember exactly what mistakes he made? No. Will that stop him from using you as his personal stress reliever? Absolutely not. So you should expect to be fucked into every and any surface.

So when he disappears to clean up after dinner and you’re returned to your TV for entertainment, he’s gonna walk up nonverbal and drop to his knees. Then, your legs will be lifted from the floor and he’s gonna shove his head between your bare legs, eating you out and even fighting back when you push his head away from you in overstimulation.

Oh and when you’re showering later that night and you let your guard down for a split second to wash yourself off, he’s slipping into the shower and forcing you down to your knees. He’ll get his fill from using your mouth, his favorite fleshlight, and walk out completely soaked like nothing happened.

You may or may not be overstimulated and sensitive to touch by the time you’re laying in bed, and you’ll be lucky if that stops him from taking you one final time. You’re also lucky if he’s mad enough to let it sink into the next day. If he is, he’ll go as far as to repeat positions/situations from the previous day.

Oh but don’t be mistaken! All of that isn’t happening until after he’s waking you up with a nice, warm, homemade filling.

[retiredteabag]

An uninformed narrative

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

Synopsis: You had lived in Stardew Valley for a year before you met the hunter from the adventures guild, Sukuna Itadori. It did not take long for him to catch your attention but you couldn't help feeling as if his affection resided anywhere but you.

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

This is a Sukuna stardew valley au, heavily inspired by @tearzintheclub's similar series with butcher!sukuna, I highly recommend reading their work, they are super kind and were a big motivation for me to make this!

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Damn it...damn it...damn-

After all the work you had put into your farm, into your skill set, into your friendships, the Dunning-Kruger effect had bitten you where it hurt. And you couldn't help but feel it was all your fault.

The pit in your stomach was sinking. How could you have let this happen? You had been so careful, you had even worn the armor you recently acquired from the guild. Was all this effort for nothing?

There were many thoughts swirling in your head as you frantically attempted to fend off the ghosts attacking you. You were encircled. Yes, the number was weening but so was your health, you knew you didn't have long. And the strongest feeling brewing in your heart was the shame that you had overestimating yourself.

The sword in your hand shook and your knees throbbed as you fell to the stone floor deep within the mines. Your vision was fading and even as you knew there was nothing left for you to win, you swung at the ghost coming your way, missing in your haste, and slump to the ground. Unmoving.

At least nobody would find you here...see you like this.....

-- several hours prior --

Life continued on as usual after joining the adventurers guild. The Stardew Valley Fair had just passed and after collecting your most prized items, you had won. Your heart had been full that night, not for your accomplishments, but for how loved you felt after a day of festivities with your friends.

You had sat and eaten with Penny and Leah, discussing life in the valley. You and Leah both had come to the Valley after living the city life but Penny had been born in Stardew, and that evening she had confessed her hope to one day travel away from town. The three of you decided that one day, you would adventure together.

Penny had cried.

Your heart was warm, watching Yuuji, Jas, and Vincent play in the apple-bobbing bucket and participate in slingshot games. Yuuji bounced up and down when he spotted you and his teacher, begging the two of you to come and play with them.

Life had felt whole.

Despite the labor that went into caring for your crops and animals, you had never felt so fulfilled.

Having just cracked level 50 in the mines that weekend, you grew excited when a day would come when you would have the chance to explore more of the depths.

It was not simply for personal gain, either. Though it was nice to have useful ore and pretty gemstones, you couldn't help but love feeling useful to your friends in town. Hunting the monsters below the surface was never too much work when it meant seeing their grateful faces.

Not too long after the town fair the forecast called for rain. Those days were designated for the awaiting mineshaft as you had little to do around the farm.

Back then, you had never thought it would cause this.

--

Night had fallen when you were found. It was dark, and relentlessly pouring rain, you could hear its aggressive pitter-patter on the ceiling of the cave.

You squeezed your eyes and tried to move but your body cried out against the stretch. You drew your hands down to the earth you were strewn upon. Your fingers traced the dirt below you.

Dirt?

Your eyes shot open. Heart beating as if you had never lost consciousness. Your vision and skull were pulsing painfully with the beats of your heart. You flung your head around dramatically.

You were within the face of the cave, you could just make out the Mountain Lake through the rain...

Your palm finds your forehead, and some kind of inhuman noise escapes you. Your brain was just starting to question how you moved up 55 levels when you opened your eyes again and saw him.

A man is squatting by your side, he looks... furious... to say the least.

Not expecting to see anything but a ghost in the case of your survival, you gasp. Shifting away from his all-too-close glower.

"Stay still you moron." He's gripping your shoulder with a hand, pulling you closer, you hadn't seen or felt it before, but he's got his other hand on your shin.

"Wha-what- how-who- I just-" Nicely said. Very eloquent.

He seems to scowl even more, despite not thinking it possible.

"Are you out of your mind?" His eyes glow red in the dark of the cavern. Though he has brought himself close to the ground in examining you, he is still a looming presence. "How can a damn farmer not have any food on them?"

"I just- I was" It was then that you realize who the man before you is. You had met him this past week, in the adventurers guild. The embarrassment you felt increased ten fold. "I had some...but-"

"What? You used it all and didn't think to head back? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He released his grip on your left calf and a fiery pain shoots up your leg. You gasp.

"No-!" You shake with the feeling.

"Sure looks like you are." The man shoulders his backpack to his front and starts searching for something.

Gratitude is the last thing on your mind. You're already ashamed enough but this man... this Sukuna was it? He was being unnecessarily rude.

He finally brings out a wad of cheese wrapped in parchment, and hands it to you.

"Eat. Your runnin' on fumes right now."

You huff but don't try to hide your desperation. Accepting the cheese and scarfing it down. Once it's settled in your stomach you feel much more alive. The pain in your calf is still very real but at least you have enough energy to make it home.

You push down at the ground, attempting to lift yourself but the weight on your leg causes a dramatic whimper to escape your throat. The pain was blinding. You'd have to see Harvey about this...

"What are ya doing?!" The tattooed man shoves your shoulders once more to keep you from rising.

"I'm trying- I need to get back..." You shake off his grip.

He laughs at you. But there's no smile on his face. It's cruel. "You really must be an idiot." Your brows furrow. "You aint walkin' on that leg." He points, and when you make no reply, he tugs up at the hem of your pants.

It's strange. He is the biggest, burliest man you've ever encountered, to countryman or city man alike, he is... quite large. He has a rough voice too, and a brutal look. Yet the touch he leaves on your ankle as he relives its weight, sliding the pantleg up, is as clement as a kitten.

This gentle juxtaposition throws you and it takes a moment for you to realize his intention to show you the blackened bruise that covers your left leg, ankle to shin. All air leaves you.

"You were fully out by the time I got down there. You're lucky most beasts here aint hungry for human flesh." He tucks your pant leg into your sock, softly settling your leg onto the ground once more.

You stare at his bent form. "Well...I'm- Thank you, you didn't have to get me, but I appreciate it." He's making an incredulous face, insulted. "And-" You speak up, "for the cheese as well, I feel much better."

He scoffs- "Oh, I didn't have to? And I suppose I'm to just leave ya to die? Gimmie a break."

He's stood to his full height just then, as he makes his way to peer out of the cave entrance you roll your eyes. Mentally retracting your thanks.

"Picked a great day to be here. Real nice choice of weather." He's taking off his backpack, then his jacket.

"Well..." You huff, "I guess you can come down here whenever you please but I'm busy with the farm when it's not raining, so actually today was ideal weather." You cross your arms, annoyed. Then work yourself up to try and stand once more.

"Oh yea?" He shuffles in his bag again, "Well I'd imagine if you were so busy with farm work you wouldn't come down here without some food to sustain your travel." He looks at your wobbling form now, and hisses between his teeth, dropping his bag.

"What the hell is wrong with you??!" His voice is frightening, and your eyes shake as you watch him stomp your way. "Couldn't wait one second, huh?"

"I need to get home, it's almost midnight..." You were starting to get fed up with his attitude. He's rolling his eyes and scoffing as if you've done something wrong.

But then he does something strange. He's grunts, squatting right beside you, but he's turned now, his broad back in your face.

"What... are you doing?" You squint at him.

"Thought you needed to get home." He turns to look at you, "Are you suddenly getting patient now?"

"What? No! I can do it myself!" As you say it you become more sure of yourself. There is no way you are letting this pompous prick carry you all the way to the farmhouse.

This time he sounds as if his laugh might be a bit more genuine. "Don't-make-me-laugh." His voice is mean and he turns to face you. "You're dumber than I thought if you're gonna try and walk home on that," he points to your leg, "in this." He directs his finger to the cave entrance, illuding to the downpour outside.

You grit your teeth. Almost wanting to swing at him. "Fine. Carry me then. Since I'm clearly incapable." Some part of your presumes he'll leave you here to fend for yourself. But he just frowns.

Disbelief covers his brows. "S'what I was trying to do from the start." His voice is low, and he turns once more, one arm pulls your own over his right shoulder, the other cradles your wounded leg.

"I'm gonna pull. Don't hoist yourself."

It's annoying. How prominent his lats and lower traps are. He lifts you, his right hand locked on your forearm, holding it to his chest. Now that he has risen, he uses his other arm to swing your left leg across his hip, allowing you to find a comfortable position as his new backpack.

There was a strain in your body as he had lifted you, but still, you're shocked by how effortless he made it look.

Too afraid to make a noise for fear of something stupid like "wow" coming out, you hold tight in silence as he bends down to grab his jacket. As he swings it across your form, the zipper hits your temple.

"Ow!" You grumble in his ear and he chuckles.

Bastard.

He bends once more to grab his bag and with it in hand, starts off through the mountains.

You never asked for his jacket. And you wouldn't have either. But you do feel a little bad that he is getting soaked while your clothes remain almost perfectly dry.

You swing your elbow onto his shoulder and bring your hand to the top of his head to block the rain.

"Enough of that." He swats away your hovering hand, "M' not made of sugar."

"Could've fooled me." You mumble

He reaches up to you with an open hand, finds your head with precision, and promptly flicks your skull with a firm finger.

"Ow!" You whine, tearing his hand from your forehead and tugging his ear like a grandma.

It's silent for a while as he treks past the carpenter's house, and into the path behind the bus station. "I'm just down here." You point. Trying to avoid the awkward silence.

"I know where the farm is." He motions your hand away once more.

Okay. You grit your teeth. Why can he not just be friendly like everyone else in this town?

When you begin to see the lights of your house, your heart starts to pulse. Are you supposed to invite him in? Is he going to lay you in bed? Your mind spins.

Before stomping up your porch steps, he grabs a large stick that your dog undoubtably has been carrying around and leans it against your door. "You good to be dropped off here? Or d'ya need me to tuck you in too?"

Little. Brat.

"I think I'll fair just fine like this." You force out. An attempt at cordiality.

"Alright then." He reaches around, gripping the small of your back, and gently lowers you to a stack of logs you keep for winter. Not allowing you to swing down and fall.

A small part of you wants to thank him. Was he an annoying git? Yes. But he didn't need to go to all the trouble to carry you home. Even so, his irritating remarks still float in your recent memory, so instead of a 'thank you', you say,

"The town is that way!" Pointing to the path he had walked past. His back had turned from you and continued south.

He turns around only for a moment.

"I'm well aware. I've lived here a'lot longer than you." He turns once more, making his way down to the forest.

"That's the way to the CIdersap Forest though?" You shout after him over the roars of the wind.

"Really?" He yells over the storm, not turning back, but moving slowly, "Didn't know."

"Well...." You lean on the stick he brought you to stand, "Where are you headed, it's nearly morning!"

The man turns one last time a grimace on his face. "I live in the Cidersap Forest."

His words permeated your brain now that he's gone from your vision. How could that be? That's where Marnie, Leah, and Jin lived. Could it be that there was a place you hadn't encountered in your year at the Village? Maybe so, seeing as you had only met the Hunter this past week.

The events of the night weighed on your shoulders as you limped into your house, gently closing the door. Your dog was wagging its tail, laying in bed, waiting for you.

It wasn't until you were about to flop on your bed that you realized: he had left you his jacket.

[majinbangus]

》 18+ very loosely based off a call I had with a guy (also wanna say, guy did NOT do what is written here)

Cw: dubcon voyuerism?? I think this counts as that

Video chatting with your friend Soap over your laptop. He's helping you work on a project that involves his demolitions expertise when he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. That's fine, you'll wait for him to come back...

.... except you quickly realize he's wearing bluetooth earbuds, and you can hear every sound coming from his end. You think he forgot to take them out, so you're wondering if you should say something. Let him know you can hear him going to the bathroom.

But just as you're about to open your mouth, you hear him moan. A deep, guttural, raspy moan. You think you misheard and listen a little more closely. Another moan. Neither one sounded like he was in pain. It actually sounds more like he's-

You hear a suspicious wet shlick. And then another one. And another. And it continues over and over in a rhythmic pattern. You start to hear his breathing become a little more stilted. A little more uneven. It doesn't take you long to figure out what he's doing, but it takes you even longer to decide what to do.

Should you say something? Should you take off your headphones so you can't listen in? What should you do? The longer you debate with yourself, the longer you hear him. You should do something, yet you remain frozen, eavesdropping on Soap, feeling a shameful burning desire grow within you the longer you hesitate.

When he comes back, you're hot in the face and just now realizing he's only wearing grey sweatpants and nothing else. Was he wearing that before? Did he change? You don't remember. You're trying your best to look natural, like you hadn't listened to him jerk off to completion. In contrast, he looks more relaxed now, and he's manspreading wider than he usually does.

You do your best to avoid a stealing a glance, focusing yourself to continue talking about chemical reactions or whatever you were discussing before he took his 'break', but then he says something that has you whipping your head at him in realization.

"Did you like listening in, hen?"

[hoe4hotchner]

Farewell, My Friend | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (x Jack) | WC: 1.9k | CW: Angst, Pet loss, grief, crying, vet scene, doggy funeral scene, discussions of death with child

A/N: Friday night is not for partying, it's for crying. At least I'm crying. This is really really sad

The house was quiet when you woke up, something felt off. Normally, the faintest sound or smell of food would have your dog’s nose twitching, his head lifting from his basket with a spark of interest waiting for you to call for him. But now, he just lay there, curled tightly, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. You’d seen him slowing down over the past few months, but this — this was different. His favorite treats lay untouched beside him, and his eyes, once bright and alert, seemed glassy and grey — they were distant. He didn’t even lift his head when you crouched beside him, concern settling into an aching certainty that you knew what was about to happen.

“Hey, buddy…” Your voice trembled as you reached out, smoothing a gentle hand over his fur. His coat was still warm, still soft, but you could feel the frailty in his bones. He blinked slowly, giving you the faintest flicker of acknowledgment. A tear slipped down your cheek, your heart breaking at the sight of him so still, so quiet.

Lowering yourself onto the floor, you lay next to his basket, bringing your face close to his, close enough that you could feel his warm breaths against your skin. You pressed a hand to his back, feeling the gentle rise and fall beneath your fingertips. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice cracking. “You’ve been so good… You’ve taken such good care of us. We’ll be fine, okay? I’ll be okay.” But the words were more for you than for him, an attempt to soothe the fear settling in your chest. You’d known this day would come eventually, but knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

Tears spilled down, falling onto the blanket under him as you continued to stroke his back, trying to hold onto every last moment. You didn’t want him to see you fall apart, to know how deeply this hurt. But the silence was broken by a small voice behind you.

“Why are you crying?”

You turned, seeing Jack standing a few steps away, his little face filled with confusion and concern. His eyes flicked between you and the dog, searching for an answer. For a moment, you struggled to find the words, feeling the hurt build up even stronger.

Swallowing thickly, you wiped your eyes and patted the floor beside you. “Come here, buddy,” you said gently, and Jack approached slowly, glancing down at the quiet figure in the basket, his brow furrowing in that thoughtful way that reminded you so much of his father.

“You remember how we talked about how some dogs get very, very old?” you said softly, keeping your voice steady for his sake.

Jack nodded, his small hand reaching out hesitantly to stroke the dog’s fur. “Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes widening as he began to understand.

You took a breath, voice shaking as you tried to explain. “When dogs get really old, sometimes they go to sleep… and they don’t wake up. They go to a place where they’re young again, where they don’t hurt anymore, and they get to run around and play all day. We call it heaven.”

Jack’s face crumpled, and he bit his lip, looking back at the dog with a quiet, sad understanding that seemed beyond his years — he wasn't supposed to feel this heartbreak yet. “He’s going to heaven?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. Reaching over, you gently pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he rested his head against you. His small hand remained on your dog’s fur, his fingers petting softly, as though trying to say goodbye in his own way.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, swallowing hard as you typed out the message to Hotch, who was away on a case. The words felt heavy, final, but you knew he needed to know — he needed to know what he would be coming home to.

It’s time.

The drive to the vet’s office felt like an eternity. Jack sat in the passenger seat, holding your hand tightly. Your dog was cradled in a soft blanket in the backseat, and you stole glances at him in the rearview mirror ever so often. Each look tore at your heart a little more, seeing the once-lively dog lying so still, his head resting on the edge of the seat as if he was simply exhausted.

When you finally arrived, the vet greeted you with gentle understanding, leading you both to a small room filled immediately — away from prying eyes. The room was clearly designed for moments like these with its soft lighting and cozy atmosphere. The vet left you alone as he gave you a quiet moment to say goodbye.

You knelt down on the floor, pulling your dog into your arms as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. He lay peacefully, his breathing slow and shallow, as though he understood. Jack knelt beside you, his little hand resting gently on his furry head, his expression mirroring yours. You murmured soft words of love and gratitude, stroking his fur and promising him he’d always be part of your family.

The vet eventually came back into the room, moving with a gentle care that reassured you both. He crouched down, speaking softly as he prepared for the procedure, describing each step with the kind of gentleness reserved for grieving souls. When he asked if you were ready, you managed a small nod, feeling your voice catch in your throat. Jack sniffled quietly but stayed close, pressing into your side, his hand tightening around yours.

The vet administered a gentle sedative first, to relax him, and you felt your dog lean a little heavier against you, his breaths slowing as he began to drift. You whispered to him, your voice choked but steady: It’s okay, buddy… you’re such a good boy…

Finally, the vet administered the final injection, and you held him tighter, feeling each heartbeat grow softer, each breath fading. Jack leaned his head against you, and you both stayed close, united in your grief. You felt his heart stop, his warmth still lingering in your arms. In that stillness, it felt as if a piece of you had gone with him. But as you pressed your cheek to his fur one last time, there was a gentle peace in knowing he was no longer in pain, that his final moments had been filled with love and comfort. The vet made his final checks before officially pronouncing that he had passed peacefully.

Later, when you and Jack had returned home, your dog was gently wrapped in a soft blanket — his favorite blanket, his familiar weight in your arms was comforting despite the sorrow you felt deep within your bones.

The house felt different, quieter somehow, as if even the walls understood what had been lost this afternoon. Together, you stepped out into the backyard, where the last warm light of the sun filtered gently through the trees, casting a golden glow over the grass. It was the same light your dog had once basked in on lazy afternoons, rolling in the grass or lying happily in the sun’s warmth.

Jack stood beside you, watching as you began to dig at the spot you’d chosen near the edge of the yard. Each shovel of dirt felt heavier than the last, the weight of your grief pressing down on every movement. After a moment, Jack knelt beside you, he'd found his toy shovel in the shed to help with the work — the one he reserved for when he was helping Aaron garden. He didn’t speak much, just stayed close, occasionally brushing his arm against yours as he mirrored your movements in silence.

Finally, the hole was ready, and with a trembling breath, you lowered your dog into the small grave, cradling him with the same gentleness you’d shown him every day. Jack reached into his pocket, pulling out a small toy — a little car he’d cherished. Without hesitation, he placed it beside your dog, his hand lingering for a moment as he whispered, “Goodbye, buddy.”

You knelt beside him, saying your own goodbye, your voice catching as you murmured a final, heartfelt thank-you for all the love he’d given. Tears slipped down your cheeks, falling freely, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, remembering the joy, the laughter, the countless memories he’d been part of. The pain was raw, but the gratitude was there, too.

Jack, seeing your tears, wrapped his small arm around your torso, leaning into you with a tenderness that broke and soothed you all at once. “It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a compassion far beyond his years — he had learned from his dad. You felt his small hand resting on your back, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his comfort, finding strength in the quiet support of a little boy, who you'd come to love as if he were your own.

Night had fallen, wrapping the world in darkness, the house was finally still. Jack was fast asleep, his form curled up peacefully, unaware of the grief settling over you. Out on the porch, you stared at the patch of freshly turned earth in the backyard, the collar of your beloved dog held tightly in your hands. The metal of his tags pressed against your palm, their familiar jingle echoing faintly in your mind, bringing with it a flood of memories and tears.

The tears slipped silently down your cheeks as the moments you’d shared together played through your mind, each one bittersweet. You remembered the warmth of his body pressed against your legs during long winter nights, the way his tail wagged in pure joy whenever you walked through the door, the silent moments when he’d simply rest his head on your lap, offering comfort that words never could. He’d been there for everything, for laughter and heartbreak, for quiet Sunday mornings and busy, chaotic days, for the day you had met the love of your life. He had been with you ever since he was 8 weeks old. And now, that constant, loyal presence was gone.

The door creaked softly behind you, breaking through your thoughts, and a familiar figure settled beside you. Hotch wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer empty words he knew wouldn't help — he just held you, his presence enough to ground you in ways that only he knew how to. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back, a gentle rhythm that began to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

You let yourself lean into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against your shoulder. Together, you looked out over the yard, at the small grave under the trees, a simple but loving farewell to the friend who’d meant so much.

After a long silence, you found your voice, hardly more than a whisper. “He was a good dog.”

Hotch’s arm tightened around you, and he hummed softly in agreement. “The best,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the edges of your grief. Slowly, you felt the weight begin to ease, just a little, just for now, as his presence reminded you that, somehow, you’d find a way to carry on — you had to.

As the night stretched on, you stayed there together in the quiet, watching over the place where love, friendship, and loyalty had been laid to rest, feeling that though a chapter had closed, you wouldn’t have to face the next one alone.

[thewritetofreespeech]

words: 1.3K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav [pining stages of Act 1] summary: After so long of being unable to touch, Gale is finally able to experience physical intimacy for the first time in a long time. Even if it's just by himself. [ based off of a request for more details on the bg3 masturbation headcanons I did previously.]

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

It had been a few hours now since Elminster had left. His old friend likely on the long journey back to Waterdeep, or whatever far parts of the realm ancient powerful wizards wandered off to.

Gale touched his chest for the first time in a while without total fear. The spell Elminster had put on him had worked. The orb felt less volatile than in the past. It was still there, laying heavy near his heart like a stack of bricks, but not like a stack of tinder boxes waiting to explode.

The knowledge of what this respite came with also weighed heavy on his heart. Mystra has asked that he make the ultimate sacrifice for the realm, and for her forgiveness. The latter of which was not guaranteed.

There had been a time during the beginning of his banishment when he would have gladly done as she asked. Blown himself up in spectacular glory. Opened every vein and let his life blood spill out to paint her likeness on an open canvas. He would have done anything for Mystra. But now….

Gale looked across the camp to where Tav was chatting with Lae’zel and Shadowheart. The three in a heated discussion from the looks of it, likely on what to do about the crèche and how to infiltrate it. Where they go next is of little concern to Gale, because it has no consequence for the damned, so he just looked at Tav as they tried to mitigate the argument.

Since that time in the Weave with them, Gale had been nearly fixated on their leader with a passion he thought only reserved for his goddess and books. But what he felt for Tav was so very different from those feelings. Where he revered Mystra he…respected Tav. Their strength. Their decisiveness. Their generosity to help and extend a hand to any in need. Their willingness to admit fault. He’d been beguiled, and the outer package did very little to help dissuade their spell.

Gale felt a tell-tale tightening of his pants beneath his robes as he continued to look and think on Tav, and was prepared to dampen those feelings down like always. With the orb he couldn’t risk any undo stimuli to his person; not with an ancient blight that wiped out civilization stowed away in his chest. But….that wasn’t an issue anymore, was it? The clock had stopped, as Elminster said, so he didn’t have to worry about blowing up. Just doing it at the right time, according to Mystra’s orders.

The wizard slipped back into his tent, unnoticed by anyone. He didn’t think that anyone would bother him right now. Assuming that Gale needed time to think in light of the circumstances. Which, he did, but not right now. There would be plenty of time to hyper fixate on his problems later. Right now, he wanted to test a new theory.

Unlacing his top tunic, he looking down his body towards his bulge now visible in his pants. Gale hesitated, but then slowly drew his hand closer to rub his palm over it. Instantly he moaned. It had been so long since he had felt the sensation of touch this way on his body. Depression and then fear drying up his libido like herbs on his balcony back in Waterdeep. But now a summer rain had come to refresh it. A reprieve. A chance to feel again. He didn’t want to waste it.

Removing the lacings on his pants as well, Gale opened his trousers and his cock sprung free. Seeming to know what was going on and more eager than its master to be touched again. He grasped the shaft and began to stroke himself. A burning tingle crackling up from his fingertip, down to the base, and up his spine. He forgot how good it felt to be touched. How long had it been since he touched himself?

With Mystra, their intimacy had always been noncorporeal. Mind altering. Mind shattering. But bodies completely removed from the process. He thought he didn’t need touch when he had the ‘touch’ of a goddess, so he did not imbibe in such activities. Then the option was taken away from him, and he could not imbibe. So he genuinely could not remember hold long it had been. Had it always been this good? Or was his long bout of abstinence merely the cause?

Gale couldn’t think more on his hypothesis as his hand sped up and his mind became soul focused on that feeling. He was beginning to pant. Drooling, even. He can feel that he was going to cum fast but doesn’t stop. His seed shot out in a long, thick ribbon on the side of his tent that he would clean up later, but he doesn’t stop. He needed more. Even as his cock twitched from having just came, it still cried out for more.

His other hand came up to touch his body. Play with his chest. Touch his nipples. He couldn’t remember how he used to like it before, and his fogged mind was not helping make decisions. His hand reached down into his pants as well to cup his balls, and Gale was cumming again quickly as he fondled himself. Still not enough.

Moving to take off all of his clothes and lay down on his cot, Gale attempted to calm his breathing as he slowed his hand. His cum acted as a lubricant now to help slide his hand over the still hard flesh. He hadn’t been able to jerk off this many times in a row since he was a boy.

As his hand slowed, the fog in his mind seemed to clear a little. Breaking way to the brightness of Tav’s face. He wondered how they would touch him. How those hands that gripped their weapon so tight, and the callouses at their palms, would feel against his cock. Gale whimpered at the thought. His hands were too soft to imagine it properly.

He thought of them being here, with him. Kissing them like he should have during that moment in the Weave. Touching their body as well as they moaned and whined under him. He could almost see it. Conjure it. But he would not insult Tav by making some malformed copy of them with magic. He wanted the real thing.

His fantasy continued until he came a third time, hot & sticky over his hand, and Gale seemed to calm down. Feeling finally sated for the first time in a long time. Who knew masturbation could be a form of self-care?

“Gale.”

The wizard jumped. His pliable peace ruined as he heard a familiar voice outside his tent. One he had just been fantasizing about moments ago. “Y-Yes?”

“I um…I just wanted to make sure you were ok. And see if you wanted anything for dinner?”

Gale was surprised as he didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “Oh. Dinner? No, not really. I can get started soon….”

“No, no! That wasn’t what I was asking. I can do it tonight. You just…if you need some time…we’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

He heard the shuffle of boots walk away from his tent. Their concern touched him. The clear worry in his voice over him pulling something in him that not only made his loins burn but his chest feel tight. But in a good way, not in the way this damned orb felt.

Gale decided then and there that he would not waste what little time he had left on wishes & fantasy. He would tell Tav how he felt. Then he could die without regret. He would just need to come up with a plan to tell them. Someone as beautiful, kind, and perfect as Tav deserved more than just a simple confession. The deserved the moon, the stars.

Gale’s eyes widened as he suddenly remembered a spell he’d created long ago. He’d have to remember how it was done but yes. Yes! That could work.

[aychama]

L: I told you to leave me alone

R: I know Sir, but I'm your advisor and I (unfortunately) have to supervise you too.

Raymond sighed as he read the papers in his hands while following Leshy.

L: Do you think I need your supervision? I was doing just fine before you arrived. I'll continue to do so. Leave

R: I can't. We still need to go over a lot of things, we're far behind schedule to discuss real matters which is urgent, I need you to sign the agreement of imported goods from Anchor Deep and the people in the neglected villages are revo-

L: Fine! How many!?

R: Pardon?

L: How many papers, Raymond?

Leshy turned to him with a momentarily anger. To him, Raymond was simply, yapping.

R: Uh, about... 1, 2, 3...

He began counting, sounds of the paper coming to Leshy's ear.

R: 86 papers, sir.

L: Well good luck to you with that. Just copy my signature.

R: Wait, me? Sir I can't just decide on the matters of the whole kingdom!

L: Aren't you my "advisor"? That's your thing, to decide.

R: Yes, I give advice! I don't rule over a kingdom!

L: Too bad so damn sad, I don't feel like listening you talk about dumb problems I won't be paying attention to anyway.

Leshy chuckled a bit and walked towards his work room. Raymond followed right behind, a bit panicked by the king's nonchalant decision. Leshy closed the door behind him, Raymond nearly making it inside.

R: You can't just ignore it! I promise it won't take long... Don't you care about your people? They are suffering! They are doing their best but barely surviving with what you let them have! Not only that, you've added taxes when I was gone!

L: My people are doing fine. You're worrying too much for something so lame, Ray. If I'm really that shitty of a king, go on. Fill my "so important" papers. And I thought you were smart enough to think that.

Raymond rubbed his temples after setting the papers aside. He took a deep breath. Leshy just sat one of the comfortable chairs and leaned back.

R: (God, I prefer hell over trying to convince this man child to do anything) It won't be long before everything breaks down to chaos if you continue to neglect your duties, sir.

L: ...

R: Maybe the other crowns were right about you after all...

Leshy immediately got up and turned towards Raymond.

L: What did those old bastards say about me?

R: Just the usual sir.

He smiled. Good thing Leshy was, well, blind.

R: That you were too young and naive to understand how a kingdom works. The red crown even said he was surprised that you haven't got hunted by your people.

L: That... Grim faced cat! You know what!? I rule my kingdom just fine! I'm the best king out there! They wish they were me! I can rule their kingdoms along with mine if I wanted!

R: Yes sir. You could...

L: Read me the damn papers Raymond! I'm gonna finish these papers faster than any of those living corpses!

R: (Works every time)

___________________________

It was night time when they were able to finish all those papers. Raymond had lit a candle long time ago to read better and Leshy seemed to listen.

R: This is the last paper... It's, it's over

L: Finally, for fuck's sake...

The worm yawned and leaned back. Raymond put the papers in order and set aside, before leaning back like his King.

R: Sir your profanity.

L: Ray I'm too tired to care.

R: You're right... I should be too tired to ask.

L: What's the time?

R: The moon is up by a hand. It's too late.

L: You don't say.

The advisor yawned and drank a glass of water. The King on the other hand rubbed where his eyes should be. It was rare but, sometimes, his eyes would bleed again, his wounds so easy to tear open. The cat panicked at the sight, immediately his tiredness vanishing by worry that overtook.

R: You're bleeding!

L: Don't-

Leshy hissed at him when Raymond tried to touch his face so he backed away. Raymond looked at the blood with sadness for his King.

R: Does it... Does it still hurt? Does it hurt bad?

He asked with a shakey voice as he reached for Leshy's face again. Surprisingly, the short tempered king didn't pull back the second time. He leaned to the touch, to the feeling. Raymond's palm got bloodied as he wiped it.

L:Not anymore. Not like the way it used to...

R: It's good... I think. Is it just pitch black..?

L: People assume so. But no. My vision is my thoughts. I can see just, not in the way you'd expect

R: How so? How can you just- See?

The King chuckled at the advisor's weirded out question.

L: I already know what something looks like. I know colors, I know shapes, I know sounds, the materials, the feelings. And, if you know it like I do, it feels like your whole imagination is your sight.

R: That's... Not as bad as I thought

L: You think about going blind?

R: No, heh, of course not... I think about, how hard it must be for you.

L: You think about me? Now that just makes me shy~

R: My King-

Raymond gave a tired and short giggle as he blushed. Even though he hated his job, he didn't hate the worm necessarily.

L: What? Can I not be curious about why you think about me Ray?

R: With all due respect, that's not the point, sir. I work for you, it's natural that I worry for the one I'm working so close with.

L: And somehow I'm someone you must worry for? The levels you bring me down to.

R: You make it sound like everything is just fine! Is there really nothing bad about being blind?

L: There are bad sides of it of course

R: Like what?

Leshy smiled, putting his hands on top of Raymond's.

L: Knowing I'll never actually see you

AU8WUW8UQOAPAAJUDJDAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HELLO???? THIS IS SO GOOD?!?!?!?!?! How dare you send me this awsome gift as an anon 😭😭😭 Thank you so much omg I didnt think such a simple drawing would inspire someone to write something like this!

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[crooked-wasteland]

The court scene in hazbin leaks seemed empty .

Lute had no arguments, she was yelling in void, the seraphim and female stolas were just there waiting for plot to happen, Sera answer to anything lute saying was "shut up" literally, which isn't only unprofessional for a governor to do but also it helped at portraying lute as crazy hysterical woman no one respect without the presence of her man.

If hazbin hotel was really interested in discussing the concept of good and evil then here's the right moment, we could take this scene as opportunity to talk about the the justice, lute should represent the concept of the justice is inflexible only bound to the rules that kept people safe for decades . her arguments is that they are currently in war with hell and they can't let a sinner in might be dangerous he might attend some harm upon them or play the role of spy for the morningstars . Emily or stolas-evil-twin or anyone, will represent the concept that there's no justice without mercy and rules should have an exception for cases like this their argument is his sin didn't come from malicious place but rather from a genuine fear so is his act of redemption and therefore we have right to assume that his soul is inherently good and he attends no harm and we should welcome him in heaven .

And I remember a saying in writing goes like :"write an argument where everyone seems to win"(I forgot the actual quote) and I think this one of the scene where we should apply that in order for scene to have a depth

I agree, except on the account of Lute's argument being pointless. Unfortunately, you need the other leak of Seraph talking to Able and the one of Vox to grasp the points being made.

Major spoilers incoming!

The argument Lute makes in the courtroom is nonsensical because we were never given the information. At the start of the season, Charlie has a fairytale book of her parents and it mentions Lilith using music to rally demons against heaven. Vox says this explicitly in a reminder lore dump of 12 whopping seconds that Lilith was prepared to go to war with Heaven before vanishing.

So there's that aspect of the world we never had mentioned or hinted at in the main series. It would have actually helped a lot with incorporating Lilith's army waiting for her in Happy Day in Hell. It also could have been tied back to Rosie and her cannibals. Maybe hinting at the Rosie and Lilith connection more appropriately, or at least opening the idea that Lilith had an army waiting on her still.

Additionally, Seraph mentions how Hell will "want revenge". So even if Hell wasn't a threat before, her greenlighting a genocide is going to make peace a relative impossibility. It's inevitable for Hell to fight back, so now Heaven has to figure out if they will risk their own safety by ending the cullings, or continue and admit they are oppressors keeping Hell weak intentionally. It would make the suggestion of redemption unappealing, regardless of being possible.

But the issue the series will have to patch over is the idea that Sinners would want to be redeemed if it wasn't for Heaven's yearly census shaving. The conflict in the pilot was that Sinners wouldn't want to be redeemed. The exorcists were actually a believable motivation for why anyone would even consider redemption when you have the right to suffer and cause suffering forever in Hell. The issue of the Sinners' immortality questioning how the show is going to believably instill the idea that the discomfort of staying the same is going to outweigh the discomfort of change. And the exorcists seem, frankly, necessary to maintain the pressure on Hell to give Charlie a chance. Meanwhile, maintaining a genocide is going to turn away people who are probably good at their core. The pressure of being oppressed will leave them nowhere to go and without options that don't in some way contradict their own values.

So the story is actually focused on the major plot issue for once. However it isn't staying there. Then we have to remember the sneak peek Medrano shared of Baxter and how the concept of Redemption at all is what is being challenged. Not if Redemption is desirable. So that is where the two sides of the story lose cohesion. Honestly, the Heaven storyline will be far stronger than the story taking place amongst the actual main characters. And between the Baxter/Alastor/Lute reveals, I'm wondering what time there is left to even tell any story about the main character. Once again, we're looking at too many plot threads not being given enough time to expand.

[giuseppe-yuki]

Imagine Kimi going missing and everyone from Mercedes going to try and find him to eventually find him in the sun laying curled up with his tiger girlfriend laying on her and cuddling her tail wrapped around him

omg that is such a canon thing for kimi to do!

not-so-small blurb below:

picture credits from pinterest :)

kimi antonelli x tiger!shapeshifter reader + cameos of other drivers and their shapeshifter!gfs

w.c.: 2.9k

t-minus 60 minutes

”what do you mean you lost him? go find him!“ toto exclaims, with a dismissive wave to pedro, kimi‘s engineer. “the meeting is one hour, and i expect to see kimi to be sat in front of me at exactly when it starts so we can discuss some important plans.” 

toto turns his attention back to his “pet” wolf, who continues to curl in figure eights around toto’s legs protectively and blinks her sparkling eyes at pedro, as if she was amused at his evident distress.

with a gulp, pedro nervously leaves the room, leaving toto in his office, gently petting his purring wolf, and heads to the merc garage.

“well, have you tried texting him?” an engineer suggests helpfully, watching pedro pace around the garage. 

pedro was basically cooked if kimi didn‘t show up for toto’s meeting, as he was put in charge of watching over the young mercedes driver after an incident that involved kimi crashing one of the mercedes golf carts when attempting to give his “pet” tiger a ride around the paddock. it wasn’t even pedro’s fault that he lost kimi- he had literally just stopped to talk to say hello to a fellow coworker, when kimi and his tiger just straight up disappeared!

”yes! of course i have,“ pedro exclaims, exasperated. “he‘s not responding!” 

the engineer gives him a look of pity while she neatly packs up her papers and laptop in preparation for the meeting. 

“well, i would probably check with the other teams, in case they saw kimi after he disappeared,” she says, hefting her mercedes-branded backpack onto her shoulder. “good luck!”

with a groan, pedro packs up his things and beelines his way towards the closest garage- redbull. 

“give that back!” kimi just about screams, causing a few engineers walking out from the redbull motorhome to look over in concern. 

grinning, you sprint away down the sparsely populated paddock, clutching the cookie that kimi stole from hospitality in your jaws. your tail flicks mischievously behind you, as if taunting your boyfriend. when you reach an acceptable distance away from him, you turn around towards kimi and purposely swallow the cookie whole.

kimi stops in his tracks, eyes wide. you just ate the cookie that he stole, fair and square. 

“how dare you!” he explodes, charging towards you. “i’m gonna catch you and then i’m gonna shave off all your fur- not even ollie can save you now!“

you laugh internally. you both knew full well kimi didn’t have the guts to do that, but you humor him. with a soft growl, you scamper away from him, claws scraping against the concrete because of how fast you turn on your heels. 

kimi bolts after you with surprising speed.

t-minus 50 minutes

when pedro scoots his way towards the redbull garage, white team kit clashing with the tell-tale navy blue of the redbull engineers, he tries his hardest to look inconspicuous. it doesn’t work, of course, the silver three-pointed star sewed on his t-shirt immediately giving him away.

“hey!” a redbull strategist shouts when she spots pedro, “you aren’t supposed to be here!” narrowing her eyes, she sends him a suspicious look. “i hope you haven't come here to steal our strategies-” she lifts up a shiny wrench that she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere- “i have a weapon and i’m not afraid to use it!”

pedro quickly hefts his hands up in surrender, signaling that he means no harm. 

“woahwoahwoah!” he exclaims, trying to disperse the situation. “no! not at all! i’m- i’m just trying to find kimi! have you seen him?” the woman’s face softens immediately.

“oh,” she remarks, placing down the wrench on a side table. “erm, not really.” 

she gestures further into the garage.

“you might want to ask max though- maybe he’s seen kimi?” pedro gives the strategist a light thank-you, one for not attempting to kill him, and two for the slightly helpful tip, before scooting further into redbull’s garage. 

after wedging himself through a group of rather shocked-looking redbull engineers playing cards on the floor of the garage, he comes to a stop in front of max. 

max doesn’t notice him at first, more focused on cutting up a piece of fish for a pampered-looking “pet” ragdoll cat next to him. it isn’t until the cat meows softly and paws at his arm does he look up to find pedro standing there awkwardly.

he raises an eyebrow and sends nods towards pedro to acknowledge his presence, but continues to focus his attention on cutting the raw fish into perfect squares with the precision of a surgeon while periodically stopping to feed the cat a piece. 

“hi max…” pedro says nervously, “er, so i was told you might know where kimi is? i need to find him in like, half an hour for something really important.”

max thinks for a bit, before shaking his head no. 

“i have no idea,” max says, at the same time one of the engineers playing cards notes, “i saw him with his tiger in the paddock like ten minutes ago!” pedro whips around, profusely thanking the engineer, before bolting out of the garage. 

your claws scrape roughly on the concrete ground of the paddock as you bolt towards garages. kimi yells behind you, shaking his fist in the air as if he was one of those old grandpas in the movies you watched so often together at home. luckily for you, the walkway leading to the garages had barely any people, like the paddock, so you didn’t have a chance to run into (and accidentally run over) any poor team employees like last time you ran around the paddock with kimi. 

as you sprint down the pit lane, you approach your final destination- the ferrari garage. an employee chats up charles near the front of the garages, who was clutching a hedgehog close to his fireproofs. the employee, on the other hand carried a giant bucket of water, most likely for polishing the front of the garage, judging by the squeegee that he animated swings around as he talks to the charles. 

an idea pops into your head.

the ferrari driver’s eyes grow wide when he sees you approaching, and he stumbles back a few steps, but you’re not here to hurt him. gingerly, you snatch the bucket with water from the employee and haul it straight at kimi, who was gaining on you with a speed like max in brazil 2024.

the bucket narrowly avoids his head, but the water splashes on him dead center. he immediately starts screeching, and you feel just a little bit bad, but then, you remember that he threatened to shave off all your fur, so you were basically even.

the ferrari employees and charles gape at you in shock. next to you, you hear a honking laugh that could only belong to daniel ricciardo, who points to a soaking wet kimi as he walks past the scene with his girlfriend in tow. 

t-minus 40 minutes

pedro is exhausted by the time he arrives at the paddock all the way from the red bull motorhomes. everyone seemed to forget that he wasn’t a built f1 driver or an energetic 18 year old who could run back and forth without passing out from exhaustion. even if the walk from the garages was brisk, perhaps five minutes, pedro was huffing and puffing, especially with his backpack chalk full with kimi’s racing data. 

where the hell was kimi??? 

honestly, thinking about it, it was amazing how he managed to lose a well-known star and a giant tiger in the paddock. 

pedro snoops around the hospitalities along the paddock for around 10 minutes (almost getting security called on him by aston martin and stake kick sauber for looking suspicious) before collapsing onto a bench by vcarb’s hospitality. he had half a mind to give up right this moment. a slight yelling session by toto for “losing kimi” wouldn’t be so bad right? 

just then, a dampened bang sounds from behind a mysterious closed door behind him. the door creaks the slightest, but stays closed.

pedro’s mind immediately shoots back to kimi. maybe he was behind that door! yes, it was a vcarb building but kimi always seemed to get himself in weird situations, so it wasn’t a far cry. 

kimi’s engineer yanks the door open.

what he sees is definitely not kimi. instead, he sees none other than daniel ricciardo making out with his girlfriend in what looks to be a janitor’s closet on the side of the vcarb motorhome. 

hurriedly, pedro tries to shut the door to preserve whatever shred of dignity he has left from witnessing this rather scandalizing moment, but before he can, the driver seems to take notice.

he pulls away from his girlfriend, who turns quite red, and flashes his signature grin at pedro. 

“hiya, mate! how can i help you?” he asks, as if pedro did not just interrupt his makeout session in a damp closet. 

“s-s-sorry!!” pedro manages to utter out, face as red as daniel’s girlfriend. “i thought- you were.. um, kimi…? er, yeah, i think i’ll go, yeah, sorry again!”

daniel, still concerningly unbothered, nods understandingly. 

“no problem, really. i saw him around the ferrari motorhome with his ‘tiger,’ so if you’re looking for him, you can check there!”

pedro nods quickly, wanting to get out of the situation as fast as possible, but grateful for the help. 

he thanks daniel profusely, but before he can leave, daniel points to the wide-open janitor’s door, a mischievous grin splitting his face. 

“i’d appreciate it if you’d shut that for us again, thanks!” 

“i’m sure she’s sorry- look at her sad cat eyes!” ollie says to your boyfriend, patting his shoulder.

you manage a sad whine towards your boyfriend that you surely do not mean. 

kimi now sits, a little less sopping wet, wrapped a ferrari blanket that a kind engineer provided, on a stack of tyres in the ferrari motorhome. his usually fluffy brown curls stick slightly flat to his forehead. 

he still pouts, back towards your imposing figure sat on the floor of the ferrari garage. 

“yeah, right,” he snorts, “she started the whole thing by stealing my cookie first!”

ollie adjusts his “bear cub” in his arms before sitting down next to kimi on the tyres. 

“oh, come on, don’t be like that, kimi! go to the shops and like, share an ice cream or something- that always helps when i’m feeling a little bit disgruntled with my girlfriend!”

ollie’s bear cub nibbles softly on kimi’s pant leg in agreement. 

kimi spares you a glance, to which you respond by giving him a lick with your rough tongue as a ‘sorry-for-taking-a-water-bucket-and-almost-killing-you-and-soaking-your-entire-body-with-freezing-water’ type of apology. 

he seems to take it, because he gives you a soft kiss on your head and points out to the exit of the garage. 

“lead the way, then, baby,” he says.

the walk there is pretty light- it’s only past the garages, through the paddock, and to the shops. you spot the ice cream parlor, that display the words, ‘pit stop ice cream parlor’ lights in shiny letters with a big fat scoop of ice cream next to it. now, you were getting a little hungry. you take off into towards the half-crowded shop. unfortunately, you have to skid to a stop because carlos sainz walks by with his “meerkat” on his shoulder, holding a board that is suspiciously in the shape of fred vasseur, but you continue bounding towards the shop after they pass. what flavor should you get?

t-minus 20 minutes

from mercedes, to redbull, to the paddock, and now all the way back to ferrari garages? kimi was going to be the death of him, pedro swears. how has this boy even managed to travel this quickly, he would never understand. 

once again, he finds himself awkwardly standing in front of a garage that certainly did not belong to his team. pedro slowly shuffles forward towards the entrance, accidentally soaking half of his shoe in a rather random puddle of water on the floor in the process.

to his relief, he sees ollie peep his head from the side of the garage with his “bear cub” clinging to the side of his pant leg. since he was part of prema, ollie was well-versed in kimi’s wild acts of mischief on the grid, which meant he ought to be helpful in his quest to find kimi.

ollie smiles at pedro, giving him a friendly wave. 

“hi pedro!” he chirps. “what are you doing here?”

“hello to you too, ollie,” pedro says, nodding in acknowledgement, “and to your girlfriend as well!” he exhales one big breath before continuing. “i was just looking for kimi- we have a meeting in like, less than 20 minutes!”

ollie’s bear cub blinks her little brown eyes at pedro and waves one her stubby arms back towards the paddock. 

“yeah,” ollie says, scratching his head. “like she said- i might have told ollie to go all the way back towards the paddock, to the shops, to get some ice cream…?” 

he gives pedro a sympathetic look, seeing how kimi’s engineer just deflates after hearing he has to walk all the way back towards the paddock to find kimi. 

���thanks, ollie- i guess,” pedro says, hefting his heavy backpack closer to him, and getting ready to trek back towards the paddock. 

however, when he turns around, he just about screams. pedro comes face to face with none other than fred vasseur himself. he almost instinctively swings a punch straight at fred’s face, but he realizes it is made out of…cardboard?

carlos sainz’s amused face peeks out from behind the cutout of the ferrari team principal, along with a chittering meerkat. 

“ha! got you!” he cackles, his “meerkat” mirroring him. 

pedro groans. when he found kimi, he was going to force kimi pay him for all the emotional turmoil he experienced during this absolutely ridiculous timed hunt. 

you purr in content as kimi sets down a giant bowl of strawberry ice cream that you take a giant lick of right away. he himself take a bite of his own stracciatella ice cream. you both eat in comfortable silence. ollie was right, you suppose, cause the love of ice cream really did bring you both together. 

kimi even lets you take a nibble of his stracciatella ice cream, (a tiny nibble, as large doses of chocolate are lethal to tigers) which he never does, usually. 

the sun shines brightly above you both, allowing kimi’s curls to fluff back up into its regular state as you both bathe in the warm light, full from the ice cream. 

“i’m kind of sleepy,” kimi says, and you can’t help but feel the same. 

you're not quite sure how you end up on the open top floor of the merc motorhome, laying on one of the sun chairs with kimi. you faintly remember dragging kimi sleepily back towards the paddock by his shirt…up the stairs…? you do know, however, how content you feel right now. with full bellies and the warm sun wrapping like a soft blanket around the two of you, it feel so nice. kimi is already knocked out, curled in your warm fur. he clutches to your tail in his arms as if it’s a stuffed animal. you stretch your paws, and your eyes slowly flutter shut.

t-minus 10 minutes

with ten minutes left until the meeting, pedro can’t help but frantically run around the shops and paddock area to look for kimi. he checks just about everywhere- gift shops, food stalls, ice cream shops, but they all seem devoid of a certain mercedes driver. 

he almost gives up, like he did half and hour ago at nearly the same spot by the vcarb building. but, that’s when he sees it, on the glittering roof of the mercedes building. the giant form of a tiger and-bingo- andrea kimi antonelli. you can call him the flash the way he sprints up the two flights of stair onto the top floor of the mercedes building. 

“tell kimi to get up right now!” kimi’s engineer shouts, nearly deafening your sensitive ears. kimi still naps on through pedro’s shouting, his entire body still layed on top of your fur. unamused, you gingerly untuck one of your paws from underneath kimi to try and bat pedro away. couldn’t he see your boyfriend was sleeping so peacefully?

he has the audacity to brush your paw away. “no!” he yells angrily. “you do not know what i just went through! i ran in legitimate circles around the entirety of the property, got caught in a weird situation with daniel ricciardo, soaked my entire shoe in this stupid ass puddle, and then got jumpscared by carlos sainz and his stupid poster! i am not about to be yelled at by toto!” without another word, he takes his water bottle out of his merc backpack and uncaps it. and, for the second time in the span of half an hour, your boyfriend is soaked in freezing water. 

t-minus 1 minute

with one minute left to spare, pedro leds a disgruntled half-wet kimi into toto’s full meeting room. you scamper in next to kimi as inconspicuous as you can, which is kind of hard considering you were a tiger, after all. toto clears his throat, looking at your boyfriend’s appearance weirdly.

“can someone please tell me why my driver is sopping wet, please?” 

a/n: i hope the concept and the way i worded it isn't too confusing 😥

[hxney-lemcn]

General Romantic Headcanons — Anya, Daisuke x gn! reader

tw: none.

wc: 1k (~500 per character)

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Anya

❥Anya is really soft when it comes to the people she cares about. One of the reasons why she wanted to become a nurse was to help others, so it’s no surprise that she’s very caring, always looking out for you. It’s hard to keep friends in her line of work, so she cherishes you extra, finding solace in your company.

❥She feels a bit silly having a crush when she’s this old. Sure, she hasn’t reached middle aged yet, but having a crush over the age of twenty makes her feel a bit foolish. Yet you always seem to make her fall for you even more. The inside jokes, the late night discussions, your constant encouragement and strong willed belief in her makes her heart flutter. You had been by her side after so many of her lows, the constant rejections from med school and her long trips that separated you for years. She’s not sure what she did to deserve you.

❥When Anya has a crush on you she’ll be a bit more bashful yet confident at the same time. It’s a confusing mix. Some moments have her blushing and shying away, while others she’s teasing and complimenting you. If you tell her how pretty you find her or brush her hair behind her ear she’s done for. It’s like her heart won’t stop beating out of her chest and her face is bright red. Anya will hide her face, trying to stay calm. If she finds you shying away for one thing or another? It’s over, she’s like a cat who spotted its prey. She won’t let it go and continue to tease you until you combust. She loves seeing you in such a state, and it may seem out of character, but with you she feels comfortable enough.

❥Honestly, it's a toss of the coin who confesses first. After long enough, she’ll end up confessing during one of your nightly hangouts, going from how much she cares about you to how she wishes you were together. If you’re the one confessing, do it in a more private setting. She’s not the biggest romantic, but the quiet setting would feel more intimate to her, like it's just the two of you in the big, big world. Anya would be so happy that you both finally crossed that boundary, wishing it could’ve been sooner. 

❥When you start dating things won’t change much. Things just get a bit more comforting and homey. Neither of you hesitate with your innocent affection anymore, threading your fingers together without uncertainty or resting your head on the other’s shoulder without care. If anything you both hang out even more, going on small dates to cafes or reading books at home. What does change is how it's even harder to let her go when work calls. How you dread the upcoming year without her smile or laughter, or how frustrated she gets when she loses to you. 

❥But you don’t worry too much. Anya always comes back, and you’ll continue to be by her side when she inevitably applies to another med school. Listen to her rant about what she experienced, her minor grievances with her coworkers. It’ll be all the sweeter to have her back in your arms, watching the stars and pondering where your futures will lead.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Daisuke

❥Like Anya, Daisuke is soft when it comes to those he loves. He’s just a bit more outgoing about it. The type to show someone a picture of you and be like ‘yeah, that’s my best buddy’. Yes, he is internally dying when he has to call you his friend. 

❥Hands down he’s so obvious with how he’s crushing. Daisuke basically becomes your personal butler with how fast he’s willing to stop what he’s doing for you. You’re hungry? Don’t worry, he’ll get you some food. You’re cold? Hold on, he’s got a really fluffy blanket you’ll love. He’ll take any excuse he can get to prove his worth to you (not that you need him too). He gets extra giddy when you both hang out. It’s just so chill, and he gets to spend more time with you, maybe buy you something that’ll remind you of him. 

Yeah…he’s down bad.

❥Finding reasons to love you? It comes naturally to him. It’s like every day he finds another thing that makes him want to squeeze you. Confessing? Hahaha…uhhh he’s having trouble on that front. Daisuke cherishes what you have so much, he finds it terrifying to shift things. He’s so blindsighted by his own feelings, he’s afraid he’s projecting the hints he thinks you’re giving him. So he keeps his feelings to himself, refraining from touching you for too long or saying something that may give him away…yeah he’s not as good at that as he thinks.

❥You’ll have to confess. Daisuke will just continue to beat around the bush, blushing and pretending like he wasn’t head over heels for you. Confess anywhere, Daisuke doesn’t mind. He’ll be too taken aback at the confession to care if people were staring or not. The moment you tell him you like him he’s on cloud nine. 

He nearly forgets to confess back…

❥Once it’s official (and boundaries are placed), Daisuke will be all over you. It’s like he’ll die if he isn’t touching you in one way or another. Loves love loves holding hands with you, extra points if you fidget with his fingers or rings. He not only loves feeling you by his side, but being useful (whether that be by being your guide in crowded spaces or a fidget toy for you to calm your racing mind) is his top need. It’s just so reassuring to know that you love him, need him, and rely on him. 

❥Loves any and all kinds of dates. From exciting ones like theme parks and haunted houses, to the lowkey ones like sleepovers and going to the park. Can barely take his eyes off you if you dress up (this could be just the smallest touch up like putting on perfume/cologne if you normally don’t or doing your hair differently). Can barely take his eyes off you if you don’t dress up tbh…

❥Daisuke finds himself finally looking forward to what his future holds.

[moni-logues]

Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!” 

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.  

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Tell your face.” 

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite. 

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.” 

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!” 

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.  

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.  

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.  

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said.  

And it sounded like he meant it. 

* 

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.  

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child.  You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.  

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task. 

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.” 

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi. 

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.” 

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.  

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.  

“She’s jus-” 

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you. 

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?” 

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered. 

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could. 

“You made it!”  

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you. 

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.  

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already. 

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?” 

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer. 

“Uh-” 

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?” 

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling. 

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”  

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.  

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.  

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.  

* 

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.  

* 

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.  

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head. 

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound. 

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper. 

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle. 

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.” 

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest. 

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?” 

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.” 

“I so don’t want to hear this.” 

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.  

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.” 

Merely a hum in response. 

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.  

* 

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.” 

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.  

“I’ll see what we can do.” 

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.  

* 

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.  

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.  

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place. 

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.  

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.  

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself. 

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.  

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.  

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.  

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small. 

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.” 

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.  

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.” 

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.  

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.” 

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.  

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading. 

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?” 

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.  

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.  

“I love you, you know that?” 

He nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

“I know.” 

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.  

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved. 

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all. 

* 

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.  

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.  

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.  

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.  

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers. 

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong. 

* 

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.  

* 

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening. 

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?” 

Suri nodded. 

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?” 

“I’ll come, too!” 

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged. 

“Ok.” 

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out. 

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?” 

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still. 

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually. 

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous. 

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?” 

“Yes.” 

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it. 

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it. 

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...” 

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either. 

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”  

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. 

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.” 

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.  

“Have you asked him?” 

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!” 

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it. 

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it. 

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.” 

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.  

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.” 

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed. 

“Do you ask him directly at the time?” 

“Huh?” 

��I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.  

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?” 

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.  

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you. 

* 

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night. 

“Yeah.” 

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.  

“Am I bad in bed?”  

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not. 

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!” 

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.  

“Yoongi!” 

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.  

He blinked, tried to find an answer. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.” 

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.  

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something? 

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.” 

“Then why do you always brush me off?” 

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating. 

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.” 

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth. 

“What?!” 

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.  

“I...” 

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.  

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?” 

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.  

“Yoongi, what the fuck?” 

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.  

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.  

“I’m so-” 

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw. 

“Yoongi, I love you.” 

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did. 

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?” 

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.  

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?” 

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex. 

He nodded again. 

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?” 

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.  

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.” 

“And what about blowjobs?”  

“Also good.”  

“You promise?” 

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him. 

“I promise.” 

“What if I say you have to prove it?” 

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head. 

“Prove it?” 

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear. 

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.” 

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against. 

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.” 

“Deal.” 

* 

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch. 

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.” 

[bullet-prooflove]

Budapest: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Postcards From My Heart - Terry discovers what you've been up to abroad.

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

Disloyal - Terry runs into an old friend while you're away.

By the time Terry catches up with you, you’re in Budapest delivering a talk on the Airplanes Project. He watches from the back of the room as you stand in front of an audience and discuss the ethos of the piece, how it engaged the children, how it emboldened them.

It’s the first time he’s laid eyes on you in months and he can’t get over how beautiful you look, how fierce, how confident. This trip, it’s been good for you, he can see that. He just wishes the two of you had been able to take it together.

You don’t see him in the crowd, the light must be in your eyes he assumes. He’s done a lot of speaking engagements in the past, he knows that everyone after the first row is just shadows. He’s in the rare position of being a voyeur. It’s not his favourite, he’s much more hands on but right now he just wants to drink you in.

When the talk is over, he hangs back, watching as you’re approached by curators from other galleries to discuss the program you’re proposing. He doesn’t want to distract you, not when it comes to something this important so he remains seated on a plush velvet couch, sipping from a glass of Hungarian wine.

You put on a good show, maintaining eye contact and focus as you answer their questions but he can see the exhaustion in you. The past few months have been tough but you’ve been such a brave girl, his saving grace throughout it all.

When you finally make it to the bar, you slip into one of the stools and remove your phone from your purse. He watches you stare at the screen despondently before he raises to his feet and approaches. He comes to stand beside you, lingering within your personal space.

“Married.” You say firmly, your gaze still focused on your phone. He can see his chat window open, you’re re-reading the last exchange between the two of you. “And very much in love with my husband.”

“Well that’s good to hear because he’s very much in love with you too.” Terry murmurs and your phone clatters onto the bar.

You’re in his arms in an instant, your fingers threading through his hair, your mouth seeking out his. You kiss him with a passion he feels deep down in the depths of his soul. It ignites like a wildfire in his veins,  the flames licking through him, burning up the numbness he’s felt in your absence.  

“If you have plans tonight, cancel them.” He murmurs against your lips.  “The two of us have got some making up to do.”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[svsss-brainrot-blog]

For a prompt: white lotus LBH and SQQ bonding over books

Luo Binghe startles as a hand comes down on his shoulder, whipping his head up to meet his Shizun’s gaze where it hides behind his fan of the day- a pale green thing with a calm mountain and bamboo theme.

Shizun hasn’t hit him in months.

Part of him is still waiting for the other boot to drop.

“This disciple apologizes to Shizun!” the boy hurries to say, scrambling to arrange himself in a proper position of humility. “He is stupid with his senses, and did not hear Shizun enter!”

“Silly child,” Shen Qingqiu chides. “It is a library. It is meant to be quiet.”

“Of course, of course! Shizun is wise,” Luo Binghe agrees, dropping his voice to a quieter register.

“What’s this?” His master asks, and Luo Binghe freezes in place.

He is lucky to be allowed in the library at all. A stupid thing like him hardly deserves even the most basic of training manuals. He is lucky Shizun’s good spirits extended to his new manual and a few reading lessons from one of the older hallmasters. He should be thankful.

No doubt he will be punished for his greediness today.

“The Histories and Recollections of Guo Enlai? This isn’t part of your class studies.”

“Forgive me!” Luo Binghe burst out, dread clawing at his ribs. “I know it’s not for classes, I just… I just-!”

He halts as the hand comes down. It will do no good. This is it- the final straw to break Shizun’s streak of benevolence. How many strikes of his palm until he calls for Ming Fan to string him up and continue?

Instead, he blinks as gentle hands ruffle his hair before pulling away.

“One can never learn too much,” Shen Qingqiu says, kneeling down at the low reading table with him. “It is important for a Qing Jing disciple to have a wide array of knowledge, that is my job to impart on you. But it is no so uncommon for one to have a specialized interest in something. This, too, is an honorable pursuit among scholars.”

“R-really?” Luo Binghe blinks up at the man, who casually flips through a few pages. “Does… does Shizun have a specialty?”

“This master is captivated by the strange flora and fauna of this world, and has read a great deal about them,” Shen Qingqiu offers. “Does the work of Guo Enlai interest Luo Binghe?”

The boy shifts on his knees slightly. “It… this stupid one finds the work to be interesting, what pieces he is able to understand.”

“Mm,” Shizun hums. “It is a bit of an advanced text. If Binghe is interested in the subject, then this master will arrange for some more intermediate reading to prepare him for the larger scales of knowledge.”

“Shizun would do that?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Shen Qingqiu said with another pat to his hair. “It is this Master’s responsibility and honor to foster growth in his disciples. Come, tell me more of what in this study holds your interest.”

Something squirmy wiggled in his chest as he hesitantly turned back to the material he’d been attempting to study, and the pair remained there in discussion over the various texts until the dinner bell rang.

[falsemilkbun]

Winter Sun and the Storm-Black Sea Kabumisu canon divergence AU Rated E/R-18 for explicit sexual scenes and instances of graphic violence Updates Fridays all winter

---

Late March, 514 - Kabru, a young half-elf recovered from the Western Continent and adopted into the House of Tol, has managed to secure one of his longest-held ambitions: An appointment with a Dungeon Investigation Unit. Though his age and ignoble blood limit him to service as a page to the squad's enigmatic captain, he's determined to make the most out of what he believes is his best opportunity to help prevent the tragedy that continues to haunt him from recurring. He expects to win his new comrades over in time, his mother expects him to come flying home when faced with boredom and danger. No one expects the little island to which they've deployed to be boiling over with monsters by the time they arrive. But that's what's happened.

“That’s Milsiril’s son?” “So she says.” “He’s huge!” Two voices, part of a little cluster of full-blood elves huddled near one of the banquet tables set up in Kabru’s mother’s back garden, were discussing him with no wariness at all. It was easy to get a read on people’s expectations of him, sometimes, because they saw his shorter ears and assumed he couldn’t hear as well. All he had to do was walk into a space and pay even a modicum of attention. Because he was always discussed. “No need to cringe on her behalf, Fleki.” A third voice, a third woman, sounding amused. “The boy’s a foundling.” That was close enough to true. Kabru had been found.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

I've thought about posting this more publicly, but I'm hesitant to do that because this isn't a topic I discuss very often. My blog has always been kind of a public diary in a way, so I'm going to leave this up for now.

I am terrified of another Trump presidency for so many reasons. I'm a gay woman who is in a relationship and would like to be able to not only get married, but have my marriage be recognized in every state in this country. I'm the older sister and future sole guardian of a sibling who has developmental disabilities. It pains me more than I can express how awful it is living in a country that does the bare minimum to support its citizens, especially its disabled ones.

I've been very vocal on my disdain and disgust for how the Biden administration and our government as a whole is handling the Palestinian genocide. Anyone who knows me knows this. I've gotten involved and plan on continuing to protest and do what I'm able to.

With that being said I did vote for Kamala Harris, and I've gotten into debates with people I considered to be friends over my decision to vote. The number one argument that being highlighted was "it doesn't matter who wins because both Harris and Trump are Zionists who don't care about Palestine."

I agree that our government is deeply rooted in Zionism, and it genuinely pains me to know that human rights of people who are not white do not matter to our government.

However, as someone who has been a very vocal advocate for human rights the majority of my life, saying "it doesn't matter who wins because the outcome will be the same" is not only incredibly ignorant, it's just plain stupid.

Donald Trump has made a name for himself as a racist. Someone who has been blatantly and openly homophobic. He has made disgustingly ableist comments on disabled Americans time and time again. He's a rapist, he has sexually assaulted multiple women. He started an insurrection that resulted in violence I have never seen taking place on the Capitol.

And now he's going to be sworn back in this January.

I'm angry, and I'm sad. Not only as a member of the LGBTQ community and a supporter of our disabled community, but also as someone who was sexually assaulted. This isn't something that I talk about very often, publicly or privately, but it is so fucking painful knowing that our country does not view SA survivors as real people who deserve to live knowing their abusers will be held accountable for their actions.

Because why the fuck would anyone want to come forward, knowing their abuser can become President not once, but twice and win the popular vote the second time.

I hate this country, and I mean this when I say if you voted for Trump or voted third party, or didn't vote at all, you are part of the problem and the next four years are going to undo the most basic of human rights this country has barely started to grant its citizens.

Fuck each and every one of you.

[doodler16]

This might be a long one so heads up.

So one of things about the last episode of HB that I wish they would do better with is Milly and blitz relationship is showing the down fall or toxicity of that relationship.  mainly, how does relationship affects Millie split and shit before husband? 

Remember, the Pilot when Millie said “moxie That’s are boss” oh, some of the head cannons that maybe Millie knows how sad and lonely blitz is and feel sorry for him, so she kind of allowed him to be part of their lives. Without thinking twice how much this is also, affecting Moxie. I would love it if Moxie and Millie’s First fight would be about Blitz and how he continue to stalk and harass them well millie just laugh it off and just said “oh it just Blitz being Blitz.” Moxie have enough and tells Millie to stop enabling Blitz.

Now I want Both the M&M to be in the right but also in the wrong.

Millie; She wants everyone to get along with each other because she view IMP as a family much like her own family. She want them to stay together and get along, so she always play peacemaker, but doing that allow people to walk all over her husband, well, she does nothing, and just stand in the background supporting him, but not standing up for him.

Moxie; he does need to stop being overly sensitive all the time . Let’s his boss do what he wants sometimes but that doesn’t mean he have every right to sent boundaries and stand up to himself whenever he needs to.

 I want Moxie and Millie discussion about Blitz behavior or at least give us some hints about then talk about blitz behavior, watch season one leading to the event of Ozzie and the aftermath. Where Moxie right fully so finally snaps and yells at Blitz. Now as we all know Blitz is dealing with own problems after the event of Ozzie. So now not the best time for Moxie to get mad at Blitz.

This is how the argument, Will go

Mox; “I can’t believe you stocks use Again. During me and Millie Anniversary sir.”

B; oh, please you should be thanking me for saving your puny sorry ass that I even came. It wasn’t me coming. You would have been getting tomatoes and dildos all over you by now but you’re awful singing. 

Mil; he does have a good point Mox he did help us.

Mox; Stop, Standing up for him why do you always choose his side?

Mil; i’m not on his side and I’m on both of you guys side and I think you are being a bit too harsh on him moxie He’s is are bo-

Mox; do not end it with he’s are boss. He also your best friend And ask your friend you should send boundaries towards him.

Mil; Well he doesn’t have a lot of family or friends, Moxie also kind of funny how he always pop out of nowhere if you think about it. Like the time went when you were in the shower and he pop out of nowhere we with the camera saying wow it’s must be your birthday moxie. Haha.

B; Yeah, Moxie in a my fault that you have a different sense of humor over your wife great Taste And and that you your taste is as small dumb and puny ass, you dick and brain.

Moxie finally have enough storms out of the room had to The door where Luna is on the front of the desk doing nothing be eating a whole bag of chips and watching something on her phone , Give Moxie , another fat joke about how fat he is. Moxie then heads straight to Luna grab the chips and rip it in front of her telling her she needs to lay of the chip and watch her hips for now on. He then went to back to the door and yelled “F@ck you all the quit.”

This will lead to an all night fight with the M&M the company now having a bit of a crisis since Moxee was the only one who knows how to do paperwork and taxes. Leading to Luna to most of the work and because Luna is a spoiled brat, she will get mad at blitz to making her to do paperwork and causing Moxxie to quit even though she was no better to.  this will also leave to Blitz superior complex to go even higher, thinking he did nothing wrong, and Moxie is just being a baby about it. as for Millie, it will lead to her now doing double the work of being a assassin. Which will take a turn for her And blitz Relationship. 

 This will be an actual way to show Blitz that his actions does have affect on others Instead Of the show just telling us. Oh, Blitz your heart everyone to love you. anyway that all I needed to say thank you and good bye.

I wish Vivziepop and the writers went in more depth with Blitz and Millie’s dynamic like they do with Blitz and Moxxie. All we know is that Millie is used too and sometimes enables Blitz’s shenanigans. The only conclusion I think of why she doesn’t mind Blitz being a weirdo probably because it reminds of her family and how it’s a big household, so there’s no opportunity for anyone to get alone time or space.

Classice, I am glad you mentioned Moxxie, Millie, Blitz’s argument because I imagined something similar to that. Moxxie would call out Blitz, Millie, and Loona’s behaviors and treatment over previous episodes and the double standards then officially quit but it’s not like a joking “I quit” then comes back immediately.

It’s more somewhat permanent but there would be consequences on both sides. Moxxie realize that he can’t do everything himself, tries to run his own business is way harder, and gets stressed because he doesn’t have the charisma that Blitz has. Blitz, Millie, and Loona (mainly Loona and Blitz) slowly realize that they need Moxxie because he unironically makes things interesting and they all suck with paper work and end up being behind or just avoiding it. Meanwhile, Millie tries to appeases to both sides but fails and Loona, Moxxie, and Blitz gets upset at her.

Despite the team being separated, they both get the same client and are forced to fight each other to get to the main target. This would demonstrate that Moxxie has improved his fighting skills and can be cold-hearted to his teammates, fighting dirty and not taking any chances to go soft. Millie doesn’t want to hurt Moxxie and purposely go into the way of Moxxie, Blitz, and Loona’s fighting.

Loona and Blitz still fighting Moxxie but noticed Moxxie’s improvement, etc. They all sooner or later make up and apologize to Moxxie because of Millie (apparently she’s the heart of the team, Vivziepop’s words not mine 😂). All these characters promise to be better and stick to it. Because of this instance they grow stronger and more open.

Regardless, I hope they do this and it has so much potential but at the same time it’s too kind of too late. Should’ve been at least a 3 part season 1 finale or early season 2 conflict. It gives the show stakes and forces the audience to care of what happens to the future of IMP along with addressing every character’s flaws especially Blitz’s. Anyway, I loved reading this and the dialogue you created: it fits the characters perfectly and truly shows how much potential the IMP squad has but was wasted it on telling us instead of showing.